M’Ladies

I love plants and they seem to love me. when I relocated from Santa cruz, California to North Carolina in December of 2024 I packed all my earthly belongings into my little blue Prius and some of those (literal) earthly items were plants. I had to leave some bigger ones back on sandy lane but regifted them happily to my groovy neighbors. although there wasn’t much space, I allotted the entire front floor for my plants. while all plants are special (plant lives matter!) mine were especially so because they were all gifts from elderly ladies who I cared for, most of whom have since departed to that big nursery in the sky. it was a little shocking for them but I made sure to talk and sing to them and every night (6 of them) I’d bring them into the hotel, motel or temple I was staying in (all but one, an “art hotel” in phoenix) were pre-arranged and cost me nothing as my oldest son Gabriel, who happens to be a monk and has a vast spiritual network, set it all up. I’m happy to report that while they were a little worse for the wear after 2,700 miles of driving, they are now, after nearly 8 months, happy, juicy and smiling (you may not see it but I do). because they carry the names of m’ladies. there is liz, the wild sprawling succulent that looks like a mini octopus, named after the 72 year old beauty who had a heart replacement when she was 50, a 16 year old’s heart which magically worked and made her look much younger than her years. it came with a price though and she had to take loads of meds to keep it ticking. she had memory problems and trouble walking but always remembered who I was. I took her to the beach with her walker in her custom made black leather pants she got in Paris then back at home I’d make her perfect drippy grilled cheese sandwiches. she had been a photographer in her younger years and worked for vanity fair. she loved horses and cute men and made friends wherever she went. I cherish my time with her and miss her everyday but liz jr. is thriving and I’m sure her mom would be proud. next is Nancy, for the 98 year old wonder who lived in a nice trailer park overlooking the ocean. one of her daughters lived in her own trailer next door to her on the right and her other one on the left like a Nancy sandwich. every night they would alternate turns taking her out to dinner or cooking for her. she liked me a lot even though she slept through most of my 4 hour shift while I did crossword puzzles with her big fat orange cat Ollie cuddled on my lap. she’d tell me about the latest book she was reading (“my daughter gave me this one and it’s really not very good but I don’t want to tell her that”) or about the time she and her late husband would travel the u.s. in their rv. Nancy had good taste and the cutest clothes. every time I’d come she’d have a gift for me, a belt, a teacup (the agency said we couldn’t accept gifts but she’d shush me and say, honey, I’m 98, what am I gonna do with all this stuff). I began bringing her flowers or homemade cookies and we’d try to out-gift each other. I don’t know if she’s still around but her little green and pink cactus in the beautiful cloisonné pot is and she’s happy next to liz jr. third is barb who was married to Joe. she had a bad case of dementia, the worst I’ve ever seen. she’d tell me stories about things that happened in her past, a fire, a flood, a graduation, the childcare center she ran from her home. after a few months I knew the stories by heart and would carefully predict and ending. she’d look at me wide eyed and gasp, honey! you must be psychic! and psychic I was though I tried not to take advantage. I just thought it a fair trade off for patiently listening to the same story day after day day after day. her husband Joe, 97, was one of the kindest men I’ve ever met. he stayed with her when she called for him and told him she felt “fuzzy” and “weird” and it was scary. he held her wrinkly hand tight and stroked her frizzy hair. “I know sweetheart, I know, I’m here.” her plant is small dark green succulent with white polka dots with a repeating leaf pattern…much like her stories. last is Diane and she’s a doozy. a Christmas cactus that still blooms even after its arduous journey. speaking of arduous journeys I am feeling very tired as I think of my journey with Diane. it was very very hard and I learned a lot. there was pain and suffering, dog fights and gossip, alcohol, drugs and blackmail. I’m realizing the treasure trove of story in my 2 years with Diane and I’ll leave you wanting more…she deserves it. with a heavy but grounded heart I send out so much love to m’ladies. may you all fly free after being finally released from these difficult earthly bodies and minds. peace and love, Whitney susannah xoxo